Her Man in Manhattan. Trish Wylie

can trust me.’

      ‘I’m not taking you anywhere.’ When he spotted a flash of yellow he raised an arm in the air to flag down the cab. ‘He is.’ Digging in his pocket for a handful of bills as the vehicle drew to a halt beside the kerb, he handed them through the window to the driver. ‘That should cover it.’

      He held open the rear door and waited for her to get inside, his gaze lowered to watch long legs fold gracefully into place before he looked into the shadows of her eyes.

      ‘I don’t get a name?’ she asked.

      ‘You already have one.’

      Her mouth curved into a smile. ‘I meant your name.’

      Tyler shook his head at the liquid cadence of her voice. Next she’d be asking for a phone number and when she could see him again. It was all just one big game to her. He could have been anyone—drug dealer, kidnapper, serial killer—she had no idea how dark the world could be.

      But he did.

      ‘You’re welcome.’ He closed the door and turned away without mentioning she’d be seeing him again real soon.

      Why ruin the surprise?

      Since it was the last one she’d have in a while, he hoped she’d enjoyed her little adventure. Come Monday she would be playing by his rules.

      Cross him and he’d make her sorry they ever met.

      TWO

      After checking that Crystal made it out of the nightclub okay and apologizing profusely for abandoning her, Miranda spent the rest of the weekend fantasizing about her rescuer.

      She’d felt his gaze on her before she saw him, which was rare for someone who had spent most of her life being watched. Understandably curious she’d sought him out, her breath catching when she laid eyes on him.

      He was the most compelling man she’d ever seen.

      From what she could tell he was handsome in a rough-edged kind of way, but that wasn’t what made him exciting. What did was that even while standing tall and straight he gave the impression of a predator crouched to spring on its prey. Brazenly answering his interest in her with a smile of encouragement had felt like playing with fire, the associated rush of adrenaline addictive.

      And when it came to that kiss, oh, my...

      Smoothing her palms over her elegantly tailored linen dress, she followed the curve from breast to waist to hip. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to imagine the hands touching her body were larger and more masculine; a deep voice was rumbling in her ear, describing everything he was going to do to her in explicit detail.

      A sigh of regret left her lips.

      If they hadn’t been interrupted...

      None of her small acts of rebellion had ever given her the same rush she got when she thought about doing more than kissing him. But how would she find him again in a city the size of New York when she didn’t know his name?

      A familiar three-tapped knock on her bedroom door snapped her out of her reverie.

      ‘Come in,’ she called as she stepped over to sit on the stool in front of her dressing table.

      ‘Good morning, Miranda.’

      ‘Good morning, Grace,’ she answered cheerfully when her father’s personal assistant appeared. ‘Isn’t it a beautiful morning? The park looks lovely from the windows. I don’t suppose there’s enough of a gap in my schedule today to allow for a leisurely stroll?’

      ‘No.’ Grace’s reflection smiled apologetically. ‘But at least you’ll be outside for a while.’

      ‘Well, that’s something.’

      While Miranda attached small pearl-drop earrings to her lobes, the ever efficient fifty-something who had been in her life for so long she’d become a kind of maiden aunt opened her file and got down to business.

      ‘You have a nine a.m. appointment for a dress fitting with Ms Wang. At ten you’re due at a community project in the Bronx with time for a meet-and-greet before morning coffee. At eleven-thirty—’

      ‘Do you think the world would come to an end if we took a day off?’ Miranda mused as she added a flawless string of pearls to her neck and fluffed her hair into place. ‘We could pack a picnic, grab a handful of gossip magazines and spend the morning people watching...’

      When she nodded enthusiastically in the mirror Grace closed her file. ‘Before or after you go through the Help Wanted ads with me?’

      ‘One little day,’ Miranda cajoled with a pout and a flutter of long lashes.

      ‘Your father would like to see you before you leave.’

      ‘Ten bucks says it’s a reminder to kiss babies.’

      ‘I don’t think they’re eligible to vote.’

      ‘No. But with any luck they’ll have fathers there for me to flirt with or mothers for me to charm with talk of how much I want kids of my own one day.’ Pushing to her feet, she lifted her bag and shoes and linked their arms at the elbows as they crossed the room.

      It was the kind of simple human contact she didn’t stop to think about with Grace. She’d heard somewhere people needed eighteen inches of personal space but for most of Miranda’s life the distance had been greater. Hence a small part of why the memory of full bodily contact with a virile male was so hard to shake, most likely.

      Not that there weren’t other reasons.

      ‘It’s remiss of me not to have produced a suitable grandchild by now,’ she continued in the same bright tone. ‘Chubby toddlers are always a hit with the electorate.’

      ‘If you start planning ahead you could schedule it for the whispered campaign for Governor.’

      ‘Always best to keep something in reserve.’ Miranda nodded in agreement. She smiled as they stepped into the hall. ‘Good morning, Roger. Is that a new tie?’

      ‘Wife bought it for my birthday,’ her father’s press secretary replied with an answering smile.

      ‘She has excellent taste.’

      ‘Speaking of spouses, finding a husband before you have that chubby toddler might be a good idea,’ Grace whispered conspiratorially.

      Miranda leaned closer to whisper back, ‘I’ve heard you don’t have to have one to get the other.’

      ‘You do when your father’s the mayor.’

      Another face in the hallway earned another smile. ‘Good morning, Lou. How was the Little League game?’

      ‘Two strikes and a home run,’ her father’s head of security replied with the swing of an invisible bat.

      ‘Tell Tommy I said “yay,”’ she replied with a ladylike punch to the air.

      ‘Shoes,’ Grace reminded her outside the door to her father’s study.

      ‘What would I do without you?’

      ‘Run barefoot and be late for appointments.’

      ‘Now doesn’t that sound like fun?’ She handed over her bag for safekeeping, slipped on her heels and took a step back to turn a circle. ‘Am I ready for inspection?’

      ‘You’ll do.’

      After a light knock on the door, she waited for the cursory ‘come’ and turned the handle.

      ‘Ah, here she is,’ her father said from behind his mahogany desk as she crossed the room. ‘Miranda, this is Detective Brannigan. He’ll be overseeing your security during the remainder of the campaign.’

      Though unaware there were any changes planned, she kept a smile in place